


Decide on Us

by lizthefangirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, Canon Compliant, F/M, POV Bellamy, POV Clarke, Season 5 (The 100)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizthefangirl/pseuds/lizthefangirl
Summary: A potential ending to season five.





	Decide on Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is written around the time 5.05 aired, so it's a lot of speculation about how the season might end... However, I think it's plausible. Also, very cheesy. Comments are welcome! Title from 'Sleep on the Floor' by The Lumineers.

_Or is it hard work, dear_

_Holding the atmosphere?_

_Decide on me_

_Decide on us_

* * *

            Bellamy Blake had lost his sister a long time ago.

            That’s what he told himself in the days after, as he wandered through Clarke’s little village. Everyone was spread out, tending to one another, ravaged by the Battle for Shadow Valley.

            He’d spent the first day alone and broken, the wound invisible and raw. Deeper than any he’d endured.

            But at least he wasn’t confined to metal walls, he’d realized. So he had stood, and started to walk. And walk.

            He entered the church—a hallowed place, really, if for no other reason than what its two occupants had endured. For the fact that they had made it a home in a world where they were utterly alone.

            Echo sat in the main room at what was probably a dining table. She’d kept a distance after the fighting, and he had left her alone, still shaken after seeing her with her weapons these weeks, cutting down enemy soldiers; the ravenous warrior seemed to return to her so fully. But he knew the toll it took on her to return to her old nature, strong as she was.

            He silently approached, forgetting to speak before placing a hand on her shoulder. She started violently, and he immediately apologized.

            “It’s okay,” she murmured, returning her attention to whatever she’d been studying—

            His hands went still.

            The sketches were arranged in neat rows across the table. Over a dozen, maybe two. Some quick and gestural, others meticulously detailed.

            Bellamy’s own face peered back up at him, over and over again.

            Echo held one, in which he looked much younger. “I hope she doesn’t mind me moving them,” she said thoughtfully. “I was just. . . There are so many.”

            He had circled the table, examining the portraits, unable to process the building pressure in his chest.

            _Nothing is going to change on the ground._

It had become an increasingly empty mantra.

“You and Madi,” Echo said. “So many more of you two than the others.”

            He shook his head in wonder. That _thing_ simpered, the thing that had been dawning for some time now. He pressed it back, for the hundredth time. Left bewilderment in its place.

            “You have been so honorable to me, Bellamy.”

His jaw worked, head still shaking. She waited until he finally met her gaze.

            Hers was soft as he’d ever seen it.

            “If you had known she was here,” she began slowly, peering at the drawing she held, “You would have dropped everything. Stopped at nothing to come back—”

            “That’s not true,” he rasped. “I—We built a life up there. All of us.”

            “You thought she was dead.”

            “Echo—”

            Her eyes shone. “You moved on—because you had to move on. And I am grateful—I am so grateful for these years with you.” She lifted her chin. “You were true to me. You loved me.”

  
            “Of course I did,” he snapped. Something was splintering, something inside— “I do.”

            “I believe you. But I’m not your heart, Bellamy. You cannot live without your heart.”

            He pushed off the table, such pain in his chest—

            “She is your heart,” Echo said, as if stating the color of the sky. “And you are—”

            “My family is my heart, too,” he strained, voice breaking. “My friends. And she—she has Madi.”

            “She hoped we would return; you know she did.”

            “What are you doing?” he choked. “What are you saying to me, Echo?”

            “I can survive without you. You can survive without me. But you cannot survive without Clarke, not again. I refuse to be with you while your hearts belong to each other. It isn’t right.”

            He gaped. “You’re—this is ridiculous—”

            “Bellamy.” She placed the picture on the table, rising from her chair. He was quaking all over. Her hands rested on either side of his skull—like Octavia’s had—

            “You would have waited for her. Just like she waited for you.”

            His eyes stung as the words ran through him like a cleansing fire, utterly true. He hated them for it. “I’m not doing this to you,” he whispered. “It’s wrong.”

            “No, it isn’t,” she said firmly. “Painful, but not wrong.” She swept hair out of his face. “‘Wrong’ would be never speaking about this. Going on like nothing changed.”

            _Nothing is going to change._

“It did, the second Madi said her name.” Echo smiled slightly. “It’s only been a matter of time since that moment. And I knew that you were too damned honorable to act on it. I shouldn’t have waited so long to say this.”

            Tears streamed from his eyes, still raw from the days prior. “I’m so sorry.”

            “I’m not,” she said simply. Sincerely. Her mouth pressed to his cheek—like Clarke’s had. So many years ago. This was a different kind of farewell, no less heartbreaking. “If you want to stay honorable to me—and to her—then you will not wait another moment.”

            He took a breath, different from all the ones before it. “What about your heart, Echo?”

            She smiled. “My heart was always my own. Sharing it has been a gift.”

—

            He didn’t know what he was going to say. But he knew where he had to start.

            Clarke had been all over the place, healing almost non-stop. He’d glimpsed the streak of red in her hair a couple of times, but had thought himself too weary to even consider speaking to her.

            He hadn’t quite understood why he couldn’t, writing it off as being in too much pain. But she remained his closest friend, his mirror—and would surely try to understand all he felt, even what he himself did not.

            So much clarity now. It had taken minutes— _minutes—_ after speaking to Echo, for the lens to shift on so many moments, just like that one.

            He couldn’t speak to her because she was his heart. Because she _would_ understand. Because she might have actually helped him when no one else could. And that was the last thing he’d wanted.

            He stalked around the camp, growing more and more desperate as he passed the structures and tents, finding them empty or otherwise occupied.

            “Bellamy?”

            He swiveled, spotting Abby’s inquisitive face. It had been agonizing to watch her suffer, realize what she’d turned to in her daughter’s absence, combined with the tyranny of the bunker. But she had endured withdrawals these past days. She had Marcus, now Clarke. And her eyes were clear as he asked, “Have you seen Clarke around?”

            She was wiping off her hands, her mouth lifting a bit at the corners. “I think she’s been staying in the medical tent pretty much all day, every day.”

            He blinked. It had been one of the first places he looked. “I—yeah. Yeah, I’ll check. Thanks.”

            He’d only gone a few steps when she remarked, “You finally figured it out, didn’t you?”

            He paused, finding that same little smirk on her mouth, so much like her daughter’s. He couldn’t help the little grin that bloomed on his own. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

—

            He parted the curtain to the medical tent, finding it empty once again, though he hadn’t noticed the twin palettes in the corner, neatly made.

            And he hadn’t noticed the two neatly folded papers resting on the pillow.

            He practically tripped over himself to get to them—his muscles remembering the way he’d scrambled to Clarke in her little makeshift holding cell.

            He felt no joy, no relief, as he read the names scrawled on the front of each paper.

            _Mom._

_Bellamy._

He remained standing as he unfolded his own—and managed to catch the items that drifted from inside.

            Two short braids, each tied by a string. One rich brown, the other red and blonde.

            His hands began trembling so hard that her writing grew blurred. _Bellamy,_ she began:

 

            _I hate this. It’s not fair to you. But I’m hoping it might be better to tell you this way. Madi will never be safe on the ground. Wonkru is still demanding a leader. I refuse to allow her to participate in it._

_I never intended to leave any of you again. But you have our friends, and Echo. Madi has no one but me. I don’t know how she will react to space, but I will be there with her every step of the way. We’ll survive together—again._

_I learned a lot on the ground. One, that surviving completely alone just might be impossible. I told you I had Madi—and I did. But I had you, too, in a way._

He couldn’t fight the choked sob that rose in his throat. His ears starting ringing as he took in the next impossible words.

 

            _I talked to you every day on a radio to nowhere, for 2,199 days. I kept it up long after I knew you couldn’t hear me. I used to think it was just a way of remembering who I was._

_But then I saw you again, and I realized it was more than that. You thought I was dead. You moved on—and I’m so glad that you did, Bellamy. You deserved to._

_I just don’t think I ever did._

_Telling you that might be cruel. I’m sorry if it is—but I need you to know that nothing will ever change who you are to me. Leaving you again is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. And I walked across a desert and talked to a bird to find water._

_I dreamt of seeing you again, hoped for it every single day. And it has been the greatest gift to have you back in my life for this short time. I told you once, on one of the transmissions, that I was proud of you for leaving. For doing what you had to do to survive._

_I don’t think you’ll be proud of me, exactly. You might hate me for this. But I will love you until I am scattered to the stars, Bellamy Blake._

_I would have given anything for a piece of you, while I was down here. Madi figured we could at least give you that—even if it’s not quite keeping to the tradition. Apparently, if you put the hair in glass, it will keep its color for good._

_We will come back one day. I promise. We will meet again._

_Heal, Bellamy. Be brave. Find happiness. You’ve done it once; you can do it again. I believe in you more than anyone else._

 

_Love always,_

_Queen Clarke and Princess Madi_

            He stumbled backwards, broken noises ripped from his chest.

            She loved him.

            _She_ _loved him_.

            He blinked at his finger—at the ink that had smudged onto it. He ran a finger over another word.

            That cleansing fire flared again, sweeping away his tears, his hopelessness.

            Because the ink was not dry. Because he hadn’t seen or heard a ship rise into the clouds. He dropped the note and ran from the tent—only to find someone else barreling towards him.

 —

            Clarke and Madi lingered by the ramp to the Eligius ship.

She would miss the ground. It was the only home Madi had ever known, and taking her away from it. . . Leaving the people she loved, so soon after finally seeing them again. . .

            There was that damned oxymoron again: The only choice.

            She couldn’t lie to herself, say she wasn’t waiting for someone to burst through the trees. But she and Zeke had timed it too well.

            She wasn’t the only one who had left a note.

            She tilted her head up to the sun one more time. Felt resolve in Madi’s hand, gripping hers. She had always been enough, more than enough. And now that they had new memories of her friends, her family; had gotten to see them, hold them. . . Clarke couldn’t ask for better. She wouldn’t dare.

            Zeke’s boots clamored against the metal. “You ready?”

            She opened her eyes, looking to Madi. Those beautiful, brave eyes were shining. “Ready.”

            And then a motor revved almost profanely somewhere beyond the trees, tires screeching.

—

            Bellamy honestly wouldn’t have stopped the rover if a centaur had stepped in front of it. Raven probably would have tackled him for the wheel if he had so much as hesitated.

            They both held their breath as the looming Eligius ship filled the horizon.

            He might have released a choked noise as he spotted the trio stood by the ramp, though he couldn’t be sure under the sound of Raven’s cursing. Thankfully, they stayed put as the vehicle swerved to a hard stop.

            For a moment, it was him in the passenger seat, seeing Clarke curled on the ground, desperate in the stark cast of the headlights. But no—she stood completely unharmed, still clutching Madi’s hand.

            Miraculously, Raven beat him out of the rover, hardly limping as she reached the ramp’s edge, passed the girls altogether, and struck a dumbfounded Zeke across the face. All three watched as her barrage continued, until Zeke finally captured her wrists, rasping at her—and crushed her to his chest as she loosed a furious sob, his own eyes red.

            Madi still focused on the pair as Clarke turned, pale. Bellamy approached her carefully, half-afraid she would take off, or disappear altogether. But she did not so much as take a step, and then he was barely a foot away. She glanced down as Madi released her hand, stepping back.

            “Clarke.”

            Her lip wobbled, lashes fluttering as she met his gaze. “We can’t stay here,” she whispered. “Madi—”

            “I read it.” He searched her face—one he still sometimes feared was a cruel illusion. “You called me.”

            “Every day.”

            He nodded brusquely, finding his next words seemed already poised on his tongue. “It was always us,” he breathed. “Even before, when we were first on the ground. When I imagined the future, any future, you were always next to me. I was too blind to understand what that meant—has always meant.”  

            She pressed her lips together against a sob as she nodded. “So was I.”

            “But not for as long as I was,” he admitted, regret mounting as he recalled every moment since their reunion, every hint at her feelings. “I couldn’t see—”

            “You moved on. You weren’t supposed to.”

            He shook his head. “I see you now—and later. I see us.”

  
            “Bellamy, I have to protect—”

            “Stay,” he rasped, fingers grasping hers. “Stay, and _we_ will protect her. All of us. You have my word.”

            “And mine,” Raven said, still in Zeke’s arms. “And his.” Zeke smiled slightly, dipping his chin in assent before pressing a kiss to her brow.

            “Don’t lock yourself away up there,” Bellamy beseeched. She was shaking her head, gasping quietly. “Or—or let me come with you. Clarke.”

            “No, you can’t. You can’t, you’re—”

            “ _I can’t lose_ _you_ ," he strained. "I’ve said it before, and lost you anyway—but not again. I’m done with that, Clarke!”

            “He’s right.”

            They looked at Madi, so much wisdom in her young face. “Clarke, he loves you; you love him. You have to stay together. You’ll figure something out.”

            Everyone stared, stunned at the matter-of-fact statement. Madi looked at them incredulously. “What? He already read it.”

            Clarke flushed. “I—that was. . .”

            Bellamy grinned slowly, and she scowled at him. “That was _private_. And I didn’t mean—I meant—”

            His hands went to either side of her face, thumbs brushing at the moisture there as he gently turned her head. Her swift pulse raced beneath his fingers, shock written in those blue eyes.

            She blinked rapidly. “Echo—”

“Was the one who sent me to find you,” he said quietly. “To tell you.”

            She squeezed her eyes closed, her fingers winding around his wrists, holding firm. He waited for her eyes to open again, her breathing to steady. “You’re my heart. You’re my head. You’re my equal, Clarke.”

            “Bellamy.”

            “Am I yours?”

            She swallowed roughly. “You know you are.”

            “That’s good,” he considered, smiling. “But I’d love you if didn’t think so. I’d love you if you had been gone when I got here. I’ve loved you for six years, I loved you after I thought you were dead. I love you now. I love you,” he whispered, “And I’m begging you to have faith in that—in me. In all of us. But—I’ll let you go. I will. If that’s what you want.”    

            She leaned forward, letting their temples meet. “All of us. Both of us. . .”

            “Together,” he finished. “Please don’t go, Clarke.”

            She pulled back, eyes crinkling as she nodded, smiling. He loosed a breath, nodding back.

            “I love you, too.”

            “Until you’re scattered to the stars?”

            “Shut up.”

            He closed his eyes, the joking words much too sweet—washing over those invisible wounds like salve applied by her own hand. Her fingers brushed his jawline, the dip directly under his mouth. And then he felt her breath mingle with his, eyes opening just in time to meet hers, slide his hands into her hair, before a thousand dreams came alive in the caress of her mouth on his, both curving into smiles as Madi's chorus of whooping rang out around them.

           

           

           

 


End file.
